


Beau Geste

by alan713ch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e22 De-Void, Extended Scene, Gen, McCall Pack, Pack Behavior, Spoilers, True Alpha Scott McCall, Wolf Behavior, Wolf Pack, also includes after scene, bamf!Lydia, post-possession stiles, recovering stiles, the mccall pack - Freeform, what is a true alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-15 13:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1306891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How do wolves signal their position to another members of their pack?"</p><p>"They howl."</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>An extended version of what happened when Scott and Lydia dream walked inside Stiles' mind. Now includes aftermath of the mind walk - when Stiles is recovering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightningrani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningrani/gifts).



> Extended version of the Dream Walking scene that happened in De-Void. Because a) Lydia was totally capable of rescuing herself - she did not need Peter; and b) Scott is a True Alpha, and there are lots of things True Alphas can do and yet they don't know about. 
> 
> Also a gift for lightningrani for being such a fantastic beta. Go read her works on Lydia!

"Jackson?"

He'd left  ~~for London~~  the room  ~~months~~  not too long ago. He'd been dancing and drinking the alcohol he had smuggled under his Hugo Boss, but when she couldn't find him - and  ~~Stiles~~  Stilinski had noticed she was not paying attention to their  ~~tethering~~ dance anymore, she'd gone looking for him. 

Besides, she was tired of the heels. She wanted to take them off but she knew the conditions of the floor. 

~~Grime: dirt ingrained on the surface.~~

She had skipped this year's Winter Formal Committee because she was  ~~smart~~  bored but the budget didn't make sense. There is no way they could've afforded so many balloons. And such a good audio system. She could hear  ~~everything~~  the music everywhere. 

She heard  ~~a bang~~  a locker close suddenly. She looked but the hallway was empty but for her and the balloons. 

"Jackson! Where are you?"

He probably was  ~~not there~~  outside in the lacrosse field, trying to kill ~~her pack~~  drink more alcohol. 

She walked towards the door.

~~Hadn't she done this before?~~

She went to Winter Formal as a freshman with Jackson. Now she had gone with  ~~Stiles~~  Stilinski. That's what had changed. 

~~She was not a sophomore anymore.~~

The music kept deafening. The  ~~screams~~  noises coming from  ~~Stiles' mind~~  the basketball court wormed their way into her mind. She felt like she needed to get out, to find  ~~Scott~~  Jackson but she couldn't remember why. 

Lydia needed to  ~~clear her head~~  get out of those damned heels. But there was no way she'd walk the school floors. 

~~Even if the surface was unnaturally clean.~~

Where was she again? Ah, yes, looking for  ~~Scott~~  Jackson. The asshole probably was in the field drinking vodka. 

Then who was inside the classroom?

She turned. There was  ~~the monster~~  no one. 

When she was a little girl she'd been afraid of the dark. She'd see things that weren't there, when she was alone, beckoning her, calling her by name. 

But she was logical. When she learned to read at  ~~four and a half~~  five, she found comfort in the words that assured her that fairy tales were just stories told to teach lessons to unruly children. That monsters were  ~~not~~  real. 

That she was  ~~not~~  one of them. 

That she had  ~~not~~  been strangled by one of them and survived. 

Monsters made  ~~no~~  sense. She was  ~~not~~  inside someone's head. 

"Stiles?"

She couldn't even hear herself with all the noise surrounding her. The beating of the  ~~rhythmic music~~  cacophonous screaming, the banging of ~~the drums~~  lockers closing next to her, the screeching of the  ~~maladjusted sound~~ system nails and chalk against the blackboard.

She could hear ~~everything~~  nothing and it was deafening. She could  ~~not~~  focus and she was not  ~~doing it~~  because she could not remember how. 

This was  ~~not~~  a  ~~logical~~  problem that she could solve. 

And she needed to solve it. Before she died. 

Why would she die? She'd survived worst. If only she could remember what she had survived before. 

Being  ~~bitten ignored manipulated strangled left behind alone~~  with friends who cared about her. 

Why? Why couldn't she remember? 

Why did the noise kept increasing? It kept deafening her, reducing her, scaring her into submission to the weird construction of a  ~~fox fly bandage~~  man that was chasing her. That made her run in high heels because she would not touch the grime in those unnaturally clean floors. 

Grime that offended her sight. Grime that should  _not_  be there!

It made her want to  _scream_.

She stopped. 

She had screamed before. She had been afraid once when she did, when jaws had bitten her in her torso, blood pouring out of her wounds like it had just happened been, staining the balloons around her  _alpha red._  

She needed to find  ~~Scott~~  scream.

Why did she need  ~~Scott~~  to scream? She wanted  ~~her alpha~~  to, but she did  ~~not~~  need  ~~him~~  to.

What would screaming accomplish? What would screaming  _do_?

It would  ~~add to~~  drown the sound. 

And what was that she needed?

To focus. To listen. To  _scream._

She turned to face the monster. Because she now knew that she was inside Stiles' head, chased down by the monster that decided to squat in her  ~~packmate's~~  friend's head. 

She turned to face the monster, and smiled at him. Because inside Stiles' head, there was only noise. 

Noise that deafened her. 

Noise that she could drown out. 

And so she  _screamed._

* * *

_ Scott. _

He could feel  ~~its~~  her hands around him,  ~~its~~  her lips kissing, their bodies pressed together in proof of their love that  ~~was gone~~  would always be. 

_Scott._

"I heard something?"

"Hush. It's okay. You're with me. Everything's fine. We just have to be quiet. Really quiet."

He wanted to ask why. He wanted to ask  ~~what~~  whom were they hiding from. 

But he kept getting distracted by its her hands on his hips.

"Why are we in your closet?" He asked, a playful smile on his lips. 

"We are hiding."

_Scott!_

"From who, your dad?"

"Don't worry about it."

_Scott, please._

The voice sounded familiar, like a forgotten tune that used to be on his favorite cereal commercial. A voice he associated with childhood happiness. 

Whose voice was it? It was ~~a woman's~~ Her dad's?

"Doesn't your dad know we are together?"

"Hush, it's OK. Don't worry."

Scott looked at ~~it~~ her. He  ~~knew he~~  should be worried. ~~He just didn't know why.~~  

He could hear a faint scream in the distance. 

_Scott! Scott, please! Help him!_

~~It~~  Allison kissed him. He let go.

He was drowning in that kiss. It was quiet - if they were hiding from someone, he couldn't hear them. 

But he could hear her something. Someone.

~~The wolf~~  He focused on it. It was a familiar wail. He had heard it before. 

_Scott! Scott, help him! Help my son! Help your brother! Scott, please!_

He opened his eyes at  ~~Mrs. S'~~  the voice, and looked at  ~~Allison~~  it in the eyes. 

"Allison, we are not together anymore."

"What? What do you mean?"

"This is wrong. This is a trick. It's a trick!" 

The air was heavy, the blood trickling out of his nose. He didn't care - Mrs. S' voice was right outside the door and he would go to her.

"No!"

The creature screamed but he wouldn't stop. He opened the closet's door and found himself running towards her scream. 

"Lydia!"

He found her standing in the middle of the white. He recognized the room immediately - not too long ago had he walked it with Allison and Stiles, when they were trying to find their parents. But he had to stop to marvel at her - she was not dressed the way she had been when he clawed her. She was in a long green dress,  _regal,_  jewelry adorning her arms and body, from the crown on her head all the way down to the gold chains that adorned her bare feet. Her hair framed her face like fire, bringing out the green in her eyes. She wouldn't look at him though - her eyes were focused on the old stump in front of them. And in top of it, crouched over some weird board game, was the corpse of Kira's mom story, and playing against him - 

"Stiles!"

His friend didn't listen - he was too focused on the game. They both ran towards him - Scott couldn't help but feel weird in the black leather and red velvet that were his clothes in this room - when had he changed? Why was there a sword on his hip? - but they couldn't reach him. They'd run and run and they'd be at the same distance as they were before. 

"Stiles!"

"He's not hearing us. He doesn't know we are here."

"Wait. He's pack."

"What? Of course!"

"And how do wolves signal their location to other members of the pack?"

"They howl."

Scott knew what he had to to, but he was not going to do it alone. Lydia looked at his open hand

"What are you waiting for? Howl!"

"Beau Geste. Two wolves -"

"I know what Beau Geste is! But I'm not a wolf!"

"Neither is Stiles."

Lydia smiled, nodding, and they both looked at Stiles. And just as he felt his eyes turn read and the howl leave his throat he felt Lydia's wail ringing in his ears, and he could feel his notes multiply with hers, echoing throughout the space where they were, bouncing off each pillar, resonating against each wall, reaching. 

Reaching. 

* * *

Melissa backed away in fear. Not only was her son impossibly still, but Lydia had started bleeding. Peter had tried to reach her screaming, but they were in their own space, wherever that was. 

Suddenly, something pulled her at the heart. It was a warm feeling, like when her grandmother used to tell her that everything would be alright. And with that feeling, a beautiful sound rang in her ears, high and shrill and yet comforting. 

"Do you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Both men looked at her, but she couldn't take her eyes off her son. Peter looked back, his eyes wide. The picture that was on the mantle, cracked, was repairing itself, revealing two children and their mothers' smiles. 

"Howling."

* * *

Chris' hand was trembling. He truly didn't want to kill Derek, but he had gone berserk. Something had reduced him to the most basal creature he could be - a wolf consumed in revenge. 

Something echoed in the apartment - a wolf's howl. Chris could barely hear it but from the way Derek reacted to it he could hear it perfectly. Chris knew he shouldn't take his eyes away from the werewolf but it was a siren's song, a symphony that made him want to look where it come from. Just as Derek turned to his right Chris turned to his left and suddenly he knew where he was looking to. 

The McCall house. 

Inside he felt that everything would be alright. That they would make it out alive. 

He felt something thick and slimy fall on his hands. He looked again and could see the black goo coming from Derek's nostrils, and the werewolf falling, whatever that had control of him finally defeated. 

* * *

Stilinski was not paying attention to McCall anymore. He could only focus on the howl that he could hear coming from the McCall house - a part of him knew where it was coming from, even if he felt it originating from his heart, soothing his fears. 

* * *

"Allison?" Kira looked at the girl, who seemed as entranced as Isaac by something only they could hear. All the wolves had stopped dead on their feet, but only Isaac looked in the same direction as Allison - the other two where actually covering their ears, like the noise that was outside her hearing range was driving them mad. Black goo started pouring out of their orifices - not Allison's, just the wolves - and then they were all in the floor, unconscious. "Allison?"

"Scott..."

* * *

Stiles was looking at the board. He still wasn't sure if he understood the game or who was winning or what was going on but he knew that the board was his own mind, and the more pieces the creature in front of him put on it the less he had control of it. 

He was about to put a new piece when the stones rattled. And rattled. And rattled, like wind was blowing onto them, but it was not wind. It was a wave. A sound wave. 

A sound wave that sounded a bit too much like a  _howl._

Stiles turned to see where it came from - even if he knew he shouldn't take his eyes from the board, lest the fox would play foul and take control of his mind when he wasn't looking. But he couldn't help it - the howl was calling him. Beckoning. 

_Comforting him._

"Scott?"

In the distance he could see them. Lydia, dressed like the queen she had always been. Scott, dressed like the king he had become. 

They were there, inside his mind. They'd come all the way through his nightmares just to reach him. To help him. 

He was not alone - the fox had kept telling him that he was, that the only way he could survive would be if he managed to win the game. A game with no rules, with no clear goal in mind, with no end in sight. 

If there were no rules, there was no way to win. But also there was no way to cheat. 

So he swept his hands over the board, sending the stones flying. That angered the fox but he was not afraid anymore. Not even when the fox grabbed him by the throat, choking him.

"You lied to me! You said he was but a pawn!"

Stiles grabbed the choking hand and crushed its wrist, forcing it open and away from his body. 

"Of course I did. You thought I couldn't outfox you? Scott may had been a pawn a while ago, yes, but he is The Risen King now. The most powerful of them all."

"I will destroy you! And all of them!"

"No you won't. And not with my body. Get out. Get out! GET OUT!"

And with a force he never felt before - and he knew that it come from Scott, who was suddenly right there, next to him - he pushed the fox away, where it dissolved in black smoke. And when he turned to look at his best friend he could also feel the howl ringing in his ears and beating in his heart, and he couldn't help but cry at him - and Lydia, who was there too, smiling at him, like he had finally done something right. And when he went and hugged Scott - and why the fuck was Scott wearing a red military coat with gold buttons and where had he gotten such a beautiful crown and why was he, Stiles, wearing the same coat and the same pants and something was on his head too - and he let himself cry and he hugged Lydia too and for the first time in such a long time he felt something he had lost - hope. 

"Come on, Stiles. Let's go home."


	2. Chapter 2

_In wolf packs, when a litter is born, the mother takes care of the pups until they are capable to stand on their own, which usually takes a couple of months. In the case of werewolves, this is actually different, since there are conflicts between the human and the wolf instinct. As soon as the baby is born the alpha is there to acknowledge them, to greet them - practically at the same time as the baby is put in his mother's arms, maybe even a second before._

Scott wanted to run after the monster that had taken Lydia away but the pull of seeing his _brother_ looking confused, weak, scared was too strong. He wanted to hold him, to hug him, to put his face in his neck and touch his hair with his hands and let the boy stick next to him until he smelled like _Scott_ , like _pack_ , like everything he was supposed to smell like. The fact that Stiles looked so lost, so confused, that he would recoil from Deaton or Peter and actively move towards him was only adding to his distress, and hearing his name being called over and over and over - like he didn't know another word, and perhaps he didn't - forced him to stay, and wait with Stiles. 

_Immediately afterwards, the mother will take the child and start nurturing him. If she's capable she'll breast feed him. If not, she'll give him formula or goat milk or whatever is available. What the child would seek more than anything would be her heartbeat, so she would hold him close to her heart. That's why we prefer midwives and home rearings rather than hospitals - modern health care emphasizes weaning while werewolves go against it._

Melissa grabbed the photograph - the crack that had been obscuring Claudia's face since the frame had fallen because Scott had thrown Isaac against the wall gone, and she didn't even think of asking how. Scott had finally gotten Stiles to shower - he had actually cleaned his friend himself, ripping apart the clothes and the bandages like unwrapping a weird present and entering under the stream with him. She'd gotten some clothes out of Scott's drawers - they had shared before, and she was sure they'd share after. The rest of the pack had started trickling down - Derek and Chris, Allison and Isaac, Kira with the twins in tow. She'd tried calling John, but he wouldn't pick up. 

Scott and Stiles were now in his room, huddled atop of the bed, her surrogate son spooning inside the bigger frame of her biological one. When they both had settled there and Melissa had just looked at them from the door, the boy started using a new word. _Mom_. Whenever he was looking at her, and when she tried to correct him a howl of distress could be heard coming from his lungs. At one moment Scott had _growled_ , trying to soothe Stiles - his eyes had definitely gone red. 

But she couldn't insult Claudia's memory, so she had gone downstairs and picked the photograph and now she was there, looking at the two of them, Stiles looking back like she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Stiles. I'm Melissa, Scott's mom. This," and she pointed to the woman with chocolate hair and honey gold eyes smiling next to her, with their two children in front of them, "is your mom. Claudia."

She hadn't realized how close she was sitting to the two of them until Stiles grabbed the picture and pressed it against her stomach. Mom, he said. Then he pressed it against her chest, right on top of her heart. Mom, he repeated. 

Then he uncurled a little from Scott, just so he could rest his head on top of her heart, humming her heartbeat. 

She couldn't help but shed a tear. Her son - her biological son - looked at her with red eyes, the request clear.

Stay. 

_If the father is not present the pack will wait until he arrives to meet his child. Immediately afterwards, the pack will greet the baby, since just like with normal wolves, the baby in a werewolf pack is considered to be everyone's responsibility. In case a member of the pack is in danger, the pack will split to rescue him while at the same time ensuring the safety of the newborn_.

John had been pressing the pedal as much as he could, the sirens blazing on the roof of the car. He had heard the howlling - his _alpha_ howling - and had wanted to go to him immediately afterwards, but he couldn't. And as much as he tried to free himself from McCall it wasn't until he'd managed to hear his voicemail, and hear Melissa's voice - that sounded a bit too much like Claudia's for a second - saying that they had _him_ back that he just _ran_. The car skidded to a halt in the McCall porch and he barely got the key out, almost blasting the door open. He saw the Argents and the Hales and Isaac and Kira and the twins and Deaton who all looked up the stairs and he ran, and he could hear them coming behind him. 

"Dad?"

He stopped at the door. His son was curled inside Scott's embrace, but his head was somehow resting on top of Melissa's chest. The way they were all together on top of the bed looked uncomfortable and at the same time it didn't, John's mind stopped to process the idea. Idea that was forgotten as soon as he saw his son's eyes look for him, like he was a confused puppy still trying to differentiate between one master and the other.

"Stiles?"

"Dad. Mom. Scott."

"What?"

"Dad is his third word. He only said my name first, and then he started calling my mom Mom."

John went to them and crawled over the bed, zero fucks given about the fact that it was too small to hold all of them. He grabbed his son's head, and Stiles started rubbing himself against the hands. Slowly, John started leaning towards them, filling the spaces that were available for him. 

"What's happening?"

_This behavior will continue until the child is settled, probably a couple of days. After that it all goes back to what humans consider standard. However, it does make our lives easier when we all live under the same roof, facilitating the merging of the instincts._

"So you are saying that Stiles is behaving like a newborn werewolf." Scott asked, rubbing his best friend's back. 

"Well, you can make the argument that he was born. The bandages count as the amniotic sack and he was spit out by his shadow's self."

"Peter, shut up." His uncle raised his eyebrows at him but thankfully complied.

"We need to find Lydia." Allison said. 

"We need to kill the other guy." Aiden agreed.

"I am not sure that's a wise course of action." They all looked at Deaton - even Stiles, who hadn't looked at anyone but Scott, Melissa and the Sheriff. "I am concerned that this manifestation of Stiles is not complete. After all, why is he behaving like a newborn? Where are his memories? The Stiles Scott and Miss Martin encountered inside his mind was whole."

"So you are saying that this is just a portion of my son."

"I'm afraid so."

Derek looked at the Stiles in the middle of their pile. He looked so weak and fragile but just seeing him with Scott seemed to give him strength. To bring him out of whatever stupor he's been trapped. 

"Scott, what do we do?"

He knew he had to ask him. He was their alpha. 

Scott kept hugging Stiles. But when his eyes opened to look at them, they were crimson red and looked like they were set on fire. 

"We bring them back."


	3. Chapter 3

It was fitting, that the roar that had saved him from the nogitsune was the last sound that he would hear alive. Crying, he let his hands plunge forward. 

But his stomach never felt the blade piercing through. What he felt was a hand, so strong that it could only be a werewolf, stopping him from killing himself.

"Really, Stiles? Are you gonna let your brother do all the heavy lifting?"

Stiles opened his eyes in terror - this had to be another trick of the fox. Because there was no way she would be looking at him with her left eyebrow raised, the same she'd done whenever he had committed a particularly gross prank, or had flat out disappointed her. But if it was another trick it was one that went beyond anything the Void had done so far. She was there, bare feet and white dress, brown hair and golden eyes, holding his hands as if in prayer, keeping him from sticking the katana through his stomach. 

And the world around him had stopped. Everyone - the Oni, Kira, Scott, Lydia - were moving slowly, like someone had decided to edit the video and had to watch frame by frame in order to find the right spot were to cut. Only he and his mother were moving normally. 

"Mom?"

"Hey, Stiles. So, you are thinking about killing yourself."

"It's not like it's my idea."

"Isn't that monster supposed to have some of you in it? Are you sure this isn't the same guilt you've been carrying over and over?"

"How can you say that? I don't wanna die!"

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because it'll save them! Because it'll save Scott."

They both looked at him, frozen in the middle of the roar, in the middle of the howl that somehow still rang in Stiles' ears, even if everything was frozen. 

"And do you really think he'll survive losing you? Death happens to everyone around you, Stiles - you know that very well."

"He'll move on. He's the good one out of the two of us."

"Is that what you think?" His mother turned back to him, a sad smile in her face. "I know you blame yourself for all that happened, but it wasn't you. It was that beast back there - pulling tricks left and right in order to create more chaos. Strife. Pain. And see, Stiles, the greatest pain he would create would be by killing two brothers. By forcing one brother to kill the other."

"By forcing Scott to kill me. In order to stop my suffering."

"Pain. Pain to feed from. Pain to gain power from."

"Pain that'd give him enough energy to keep his current form alive. Free of me."

"There you are, being the clever boy you are supposed to be. Bending all the rules, yeah, but still clever. Figuring things out." She helped him lower the katana into a non threatening pose, and he couldn't take his eyes from her. "What?" 

"How?" And then he remembered - in Bardo, both good and bad deities would visit you, guiding you towards the dark or the light. Maybe he had finally earned a good deity in his own personal hell. "Are you a good deity, mom?"

"No - I'm just a ghost, honey."

"A ghost? A ghost inside my mind?"

"Nothing else."

"Then how? How are you here? How are you here now since you weren't here before?"

And suddenly, Claudia Stilinski smiled, a smile so powerful, so bright, so  _her_  that Stiles couldn't help but smile with her, even if he didn't understand why. 

It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was smiling, and that he was smiling with her.

"The legends are true. A True Alpha can summon ghosts into their pack."

* * *

Kira looked in terror - without her sword, the Oni had a clear shot towards her stomach. And he went for it. 

But suddenly, a gorgeous tall boy, flawless skin that matched his leather jacket was standing in between them, taking the hit. He just glanced at the sword, and back at the Oni, and with one swift punch through the demon's chest he extracted the firefly living in its heart, effectively killing it. The sword banished in smoke, and he just looked back to her.

"Boyd."

"Kira."

* * *

Lydia lost her voice in the fear - she had already seen the trajectory the sword would take into her neck, igniting a blood loss that would be fatal unless she went to the hospital, and from what the nogistune had said that place would be a wasteland right now. That was if they could get out of the Bardo first. 

She braced herself. She would not close her eyes - she would look at Death in the eye, and either welcome it, or spit at it. 

But the sword never came. Instead, a petite figure, blonde and fierce stopped the blade with her hands, Buffy style. 

(She would never admit to having watched all of Buffy. Stiles would want to discuss all of it and she wasn't sure he'd be up to the academic level she harbored in the subject.)

The girl - and it couldn't be anyone else - used the butt of the katana to destroy the Oni's mask, rendering it a wisp of smoke. 

"Come on, Lyds," Erica said, smiling her feral smile, "don't stay there doing nothing."

* * *

Scott kept howling, and he saw the ghost of Mrs. S form in front of Stiles, stopping him. He heard the blade piercing the air and he turned to see it falling onto his neck. 

Except it was stopped by a bow that pushed it upwards and knocked the Oni backwards. The hands that held it drew the string and in it an arrow of silver light appeared, and when shot, it destroyed the Oni.

"Allison?"

"Come on Scott, get up!"

He did - he wanted to talk to her, to at least say goodbye to her, but he knew that he couldn't save her. So he went towards the one he could save - or maybe he had already saved himself.

"Stiles!"

All four got together, and Scott was hugging Stiles like he was going to kill himself anyways, even if there was no blade in his hands. 

"Scott! I'm sorry - I didn't -"

They were interrupted by an angry roar - the nogitsune was ordering the Oni to attack them, but no matter how much they tried, they couldn't get through the ghosts of their friends - of his pack. So Scott looked at Stiles and nodded, and together - like always - they marched through. 


End file.
